


Friendship of the Houses

by Autumn_Llleaves



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Epistolary, F/M, Harry Potter Next Generation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 17:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4313067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumn_Llleaves/pseuds/Autumn_Llleaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 2017 Sorting and what happened next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friendship of the Houses

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Дружба факультетов](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/127560) by Изумрудная Змея. 



Of course, it's my own fault. My brains were a total mess: I wanted to be in Gryffindor, feared to end up in Slytherin, tried to convince myself there's nothing wrong with it, imagined what Jim would do to me if I weren't Sorted into Gryffindor, felt ashamed because I didn't want to go to Slytherin... Naturally, the Hat decided I mustn't go to either of these Houses, if I don't want to be torn apart. And Ravenclaw was certainly not my cup of tea at all. That's how I became a Hufflepuff.

Of course, it's my own fault. I should have been in Slytherin! It wouldn't have been hard for me – I really wanted it. All Malfoys have studied in Slytherin, since the crusading era. But I was so sure I had the green tie already on my neck that I allowed myself to lose my focus a little. Exactly as the Hat was being placed on my head, I was thinking: "How many pumpkins do they have to grow to get enough pumpkin juice for a crowd like this, and how much land do they need for it?" Needless to say more. This way I was Sorted into Ravenclaw.

By the way, it's not like it's _my_ fault! Who taught me punches in the nose were the best way to arrange things? Who was abandoned by Mommy when I was two years old, so that I didn't get any refined feminine upbringing? Finally, after whom did I inherit the bull-like looks? Yup, all thanks to dear Daddy. Well, perhaps everything would have gone alright, if not for that idiot behind me who said "What a maypole she is!" when my name was called out. Perhaps all would have been fine. As it happened, I sat under that Hat and imagined how I would punch him in the nose. And, of course, I ended up in Gryffindor.

I think there must have obviously been a misunderstanding. I wanted to be in Gryffindor. I knew full well how many of my ancestors had been in Gryffindor. I remembered perfectly that my own parents had been prefects there. I was sure my contributions to the House's progress would enable it to win the House Cup. I dreamed of being a prefect myself, carrying on the family tradition... I did everything I ought to have done – how comes I was Sorted into Slytherin?!

* * *

And I knew they would tease me. They always do. I understand – if someone else was called Albus, I would have laughed at it as well. So I decided immediately I would answer only to Al, and let them tease as much as they like. After all, I was named after two good men, and it's not their fault that in their times there had been such odd naming traditions. But when Professor Flitwick called me Albus Severus in class, and that fool from the back row yelled "Just Minerva for us friends!"... I couldn't control myself.

I've never thought that a person could be taunted only for having a different name from the others. Why, we _all_ have different names – or else how would we distinguish one from the other? Besides, there's nothing so funny in my name. You'd think it's the first time they heard about a zodiacal constellation. Balderdash! I didn't even understand at first what was going on. A fine scene it was, I think: that lunatic, jumping in front of me like a monkey, yelling "Scorpion, scorpion!!!", and myself, sitting and trying to figure out what's gotten into him. When I realized what it was, I was surprised such idiots were admitted into Hogwarts. I  _expressed_ my surprise aloud. So, well...

The name, to make a difference, is a gift from Mommy. A flower, for Merlin's sake! If I had Alexandra or, for example, Josephine for a second name, I wouldn't have complained. Jo's fine. Alex is fine. But Esmeralda! So you see I don't have much of a choice! And it's none of my fault! If I say my name's Ben, then I want to be called Ben. There's no need to tell me I'm a girl and not a boy – I know it, thanks. And no need to look me up in the list either. And no need at all to shout for the whole class to hear that my real name's Verbena. I can give you a black eye for that, you know. When that redhead began to tease me... It's her own fault, I know from the cradle what to do in such cases.

It was a misunderstanding! I didn't tease her! I only introduced myself. Polite people, when they learn another's name, speak out their own. Yes, it is a strange coincidence that she's called Verbena and I'm called Rose, but it's not a reason to go punching and kicking all of a sudden, right? A complete jerk she is!

* * *

Maybe I too would have been offended in Jim's place. But it was him that actually made me to go to the trials. Of course he thought no one would take me. He wasn't accepted last year, and he flies better than I do. If this year we were both refused a place, he wouldn't have been so sad about it, and if they took him but not me, he would have been glad. He loves me, surely, but all the same – he'd have been glad. It's just that he didn't think that their Seeker is in his sixth year, so apparently they don't need a new one, and our Keeper finished school last year. So here it is – I'm now on the team of House Hufflepuff. Spooky!

Maybe I too would have been offended in his place. He's a seventh year, and it was his last chance, but they took me. On the other hand, I'm lighter, more mobile, and quicker as well. Moreover, if you start to play Quidditch in the year when you have your N.E.W.T.s, no good will come out of it. And I will gradually get used to the workload. So, since I'm the Ravenclaw Seeker now, could I have a new broom?

I did nothing! I was just walking around, and they were having the trials. Well, I shouted _some words_  at that blundering fool – but he  _did_ miss everything, it was the truth! He shouldn't have thrown that club at me – of course I caught it and threw it back. He absolutely shouldn't have dared me to try it myself – I never refuse a dare. I was given a club, a Bludger... And tried it. So, I am a Gryffindor Beater now, and the window of the Headmistress's office had been broken before anyway.

Oh no, Slytherin's not a House, it's something unimaginable. Is it normal to listen to what your neighbor's saying during the match? Is it normal to go to the Headmistress and offer your classmate as a Quidditch commentator – _without_ the classmate's consent? Is it normal to threaten her with a boycott if she doesn't agree? It's not like it's my fault that I know the rules better than anyone else: I had the misfortune to read  _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , and all the facts got stuck in my head. Now I will have to comment the match for all the school to listen. I'm so afraid!!!

* * *

Lily was Sorted into Gryffindor. Jim said he'll tell you about it himself, because he's the eldest, but he can forget. If he won't, there's nothing in me writing to you about it as well. He said to everyone that Lily's his sister, and whoever dares to insult her will have to deal with him. When I went to Hogwarts, he said that about me too. I think he's sad that no one has insulted _me_ for two years. Well, we did have a couple of fights with the boys, but I didn't tell him. I'm not a tattler, am I?

Deneb was Sorted into Slytherin. She cocks her long nose so high she'll scratch the ceiling with it some day. The world hasn't seen a haughty monkey like her before. Do you know what she did? She brought me to the Slytherin common room and announced that I am her brother and whoever dares to insult her will have to deal with me. Today some of these kiddies gave me very odd looks at breakfast. I fear that she has told them I _eat_ first years.

Vince was Sorted into Slytherin. At long last I've met him, thank you, darling Mommy. She could have sent him to Beauxbatons, and I wouldn't have seen my own brother until after seven years or so! He's small and skinny, and pug-nosed as well, but in general he's okay. He was already beaten yesterday and ran crying to me. Naturally, I kicked the daylights out of that guy and warned him that the next time he'll lose his ears. That piglet sneaked to their Head, and Gryffindor lost twenty points.

Hugo was Sorted into Gryffindor. If you receive a Howler from him in two weeks, don't worry, it will simply be him remembering he ought to write about it to the parents. He has asked three times already if I'll protect him. I have answered – three times! – that if anyone bothers him, he should go to the prefect, but it's like speaking to a wall. If he comes for the fourth time, honestly, I will bother him myself!

* * *

Why does everyone think Hufflepuff only contains dummies? Professor Sinistra listens to my answers with the look of someone watching a phoenix rebirth. Of course, it's pleasant to get points for practically nothing, but they're close to pointing at me and saying, like: "Hey, look, a talking horse!" That is very irritating. Jim says that if the Hufflepuffs used their fists a bit more they'd have had more respect. Oh, I could have told him about the Gryffindors' reputation! They ought to be given blunt knives at dinner so that they wouldn't stab their classmates or themselves. I could have said it, but I didn't. What's the point?

Why does everyone think Ravenclaw is a solid iceberg, freezing out all feeling and emotion? It does have a silver lining in it, though. If an average Hogwarts student is sitting on a windowsill with a dreamy look, in five minutes (in ten, if he has hidden himself well) someone is bound to ask him whether he's fallen in love. But if that student wears a blue tie, no one will bother him at all. Everybody understands that he's simply lost in thoughts about the square roots of negative numbers. I think that if you try, you can get rid of that misbelief – but what's the point?

Why, why are the Gryffindors treated like berserk nutcases? Yesterday I dropped my course book while walking in the corridor. Five people jumped away immediately, as if they thought it would explode. Fine, I admit, one day I had three crackers from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in my bag, and it fell on the floor with a jolly good bang. But it happened only once! In my first year!

I don't understand where does everyone get the thought that Slytherins are all cunning, sneaky schemers? Yes, I know about historical reasons, but still – it's odd. If I help someone with Arithmancy, I do not do it because he's the Hufflepuff Seeker, and if during tomorrow's match he won't worry about his Arithmancy mark, he will sooner catch the Snitch, and Gryffindor will be out of the run, and Slytherin will have more chances to win the Quidditch Cup. I do it because I hate people who can't deal with a basic three-unknown quadratic equation. Speaking of which, the Gryffindor Seeker won't be thinking of the Snitch anyway. He has quarrelled with his girlfriend.

* * *

To be honest, I've tried to remember who it is for two hours. Yeah, there is that chap in Ravenclaw. Pale, skinny, always the first to raise a hand in Potions. Afraid of all magical (and non-magical) creatures down to frogs. What's the matter with that Malfoy – something special about him?

To be honest, you've beaten me. I've tried to remember for two hours if I know anyone called Verbena. And then she pushed me against the wall, gripped my ear and said her name's Ben, and whoever teases her will get a punch in the nose. That's how I learned that Ben Goyle from Gryffindor isn't a boy.

What do you mean – Potter? Currently there are two and a half Potters at Hogwarts. Jim from our House – a good guy, we're a bit friendly with him, especially since that day I gave him a black eye. Al, from Hufflepuff – a great Keeper, awfully polite. And Lily – just a girl, nothing extraordinary.

Do I know the Ravenclaw Seeker and one of the Gryffindor Beaters? Spare me, how can I? I've only commented some six matches a year for the past four years and counting. I know what the twenty-eight Quidditch players like for breakfast, what marks each of them has for the last test and how they get on with girls. I don't know one thing, though – why would anyone but me care about it?

* * *

I wonder if I could dye my hair blond. Permanently. I asked Malfoy from Ravenclaw yesterday – he shaves once a week, and even that's more for the image. But every evening I look like a convict on the run, and every morning – like someone who has lived in a thorned bush for a week. Can I maybe grow a beard and let it rest?

It's funny how the public opinion about the opposite gender has changed over the summer. It used to be boys and girls. Now it's boys, girls, and "wow, girls!" There are some quite unexpected moves into the last category. Like, you know – "wow, you _are_ a girl!" The main thing is to mind your tongue, or you'll say it aloud.

I wish I could get rid of these beauties. Not completely, like cutting them off – just, well, make them a little smaller. It's uncomfortable for me to fly, and... Will the guys stare at me like this for the rest of my life? Or will it end when I reach my thirtieth birthday, old and withered?

Our boys have realized that girls exist in this world. An admirable achievement. By the seventh year they might figure out how children are made. Three times I've had free tea and cakes at Madam Puddifoot's. I wish I have paid for it. And for the boys who invited me as well. And for everyone else in the teashop. I wonder if boys remain such idiots for their remaining lives, or does it wear off when they're thirty years or so?

* * *

_Hey, Ben!_

_Listen, what do you say to going to Hog's Head after tomorrow's Quidditch and having a rare roast beef? I think that after several hours spent among the spectators a real player ought to have some raw meat. Or rare meat. Well, would you like it?_

_Al Potter._

Dear Miss Weasley,

I believe that the tricky situation that presents itself before the match of Slytherin and Ravenclaw is in need of an immediate and, most importantly, well-weighed discussion. In my opinion, you and I, as the House prefects and intelligent, right-minded people, could eventually reach an agreement in such a discussion. I suggest we should meet today after classes in the library and talk about it.

Sincerely yours,

Scorpius Malfoy.

_Potter, I love you. You've the first guy smart enough not to drag me to the teashop. I'm all sticky from these cakes. Besides, it's a cool idea about the roast beef. Usually I simply beat a Bludger around after the match, for an hour or two, but rare meat sounds great._

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

I entirely agree with you. But I would like to correct your proposed plan a little. What if we could meet at a later time, when there will be next to no visitors (even if there never are many of them in the library)? I don't want anyone to interrupt an important conversation such as this one.

Sincerely yours,

Rose Weasley.

* * *

_My dear parents!_

_I've finally met the girl of my dreams – E-cup breasts and plays Quidditch. Unfortunately, my younger brother is engaged with her. Proposed a month ago._

_To put it short, Al wants to marry Ben Goyle from Gryffindor. He hasn't written a word to you, because he doesn't know how you'll like it. You'd better like it, you know, or these idiots will run away to Gretna Green. As for myself, I solemnly promise I won't get married until I'm thirty._

_Your loving son Jim._

Dear Mother,

I know you should prepare yourself somehow, but I don't have either nerves or time for this. Prepare Father on your own, you've always managed to do it wonderfully.

Scorpius is getting married to one of the Weasley girls. I can't stop it. All my rational arguments were crashed in half an hour, and I didn't dare to bring up the irrational ones – Scorpius sometimes has a most peculiar reaction to things. My only consolation is that they don't rush the wedding. Personally, I hope that time will heal it. But you'd better prepare Father anyway.

Your loving son Draco.

P.S. How's your garden?

_Dear Pansy,_

_Our daughter's getting married. Come to England in the beginning of August, if you please. You can bring another boyfriend of yours (who's it now?), but to tell the truth he'll be a right pain in the ass at the wedding._

_Send me the bill for the dress, if you want. But have some boundaries, okay?_

_Greg._

Dear Ron,

In boggart's name, why all the panic? First, it's not like they're marrying tomorrow. Second, if Dad's glasses accidentally vanish during the wedding, he won't know at all whom Rosie's getting married to. Third, if you don't raise your voice too much in front of Mom, she can actually miss the name of the bridegroom. Fourth, you can always ask this Malfoy to drink Polyjuice. Or just, you know, slip it into his drink.

Don't go psycho, pal. Send love to your wife.

Charlie.

 

 


End file.
